A Reality Most Precious
by smartkid37
Summary: The the disappearance of six employees of NCIS - all of whom work closest to Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the MCRT Team Leader is left with no doubt that the culprit is someone with a grudge against him. As he races to figure out who and why while trying to find his team - things take a near-fatal twist.
1. Prologue

_A/N: Wrote this back in January - any likeness to any other posted story - is purely coincidental._

_A great big WELCOME BACK - to my good friend, Shelbylou - who very graciously helped me with fine-tuning this ._

WARNINGS: All warnings are for IMPLIED situations.

and now...

* * *

_**POOF**_

_In the middle of a single barely lit storage room, 10 feet x 12 feet in size, with no apparent way out, sits a man - shackled to an old fashioned school chair by a 3" thick chain that's wrapped around his body in three places: around his chest, around his waist and once more around his thighs._

_He's blindfolded - a thick, black, heavy gauze type fabric wrapped securely around his eyes for the sole purpose of not allowing him to see anything. He's not gagged, although he is unconscious, still suffering the effects of being drugged and as well as being hit extremely hard over the head. Completely out of it, his head has fallen to his chest and has been there for hours. _

_Wearing only a thin button-up work shirt tucked inside his jeans with the standard socks and work shoes on his feet, the goose bumps are rapidly increasing visibly on his skin as the cold air permeates the room._

_To make sure the chair can't be moved, the chain's been run down through the bottom rung of the chair he's sitting in. From there it's been threaded through a thick metal hook welded into the floor just behind the chair and stretched across the floor to the wall behind him. At that point, the chain disappears into a hole in the wall that's been sealed. He's not going anywhere._

_The man begins to awaken, his movements slow and sluggish. Blinking repeatedly to try to clear his vision and adjust his eyes to the steadily darkening room, he feels anxiety grab hold of him with a tenacity that alarms him. Trying to look around - and realizing he can't even open his eyes, his mind fills with disbelief before that changes over to confusion and uncertainty still wrapped in panic. How did he get here? Why? Who would do this to him? _

_Shifting in the chair - what little of it he can do while bound this way, brings a more painful comprehension about his predicament. Being six feet tall and confined to this way of sitting as well as having recently lost fifteen pounds with no more fat left on his body means every inch of the chain is pressing onto bone and sinew - causing pain. _

_His body aches everywhere; even places he didn't know could feel pain. Every point of contact between the heavy chain and his skin seers with a burning throb that makes his teeth clench._

_One terrifying fact floods his mind: neither his Bachelor of Science degree in biomedical engineering from Johns Hopkins University or his Master of Science degree in computer forensics from MIT will be of any help to him now. It's not even clear if his experience earned on the job will be of any help to him now._

_Speaking of help; where is the rest of the team that had gone out to dinner with?_

_Who has taken him like this and why?_

_What do they want with him?_

_***POOF***_


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N:Absolutely no disrespect is intended with the brief inclusion of remembering the true life events of 9/11/11.  
However, the exact timeline is important for the story.  
- Oops, I do believe you've just been given a whodunit clue._

* * *

**_Monday_**_ Sept 12, 2011**  
**__  
_It's another boring week so far, but then again it's only lunchtime on Monday, so the rest of the week's wide open for a break from the monotony. From the looks on their faces as the MCRT heads out for a rare lunch together, they all feel the same way. As Federal Agents and as people, they've come to understand about each other, that this day: date, and even more so, the anniversary day before, has a numb feel to it as they respectfully remember the tragic events that happened on for 9/11/2001.

As they leave the building enroute to the Agency's Fleet Parking Lot, Gibbs watches as his youngest agent shows anxiety for the first time in a long time. Tim's feet freeze and his eyes shift nervously, scrutinizing every square inch of their surroundings in turn. He hasn't said anything but if the boss didn't know any better, he'd say this is far from the first time the younger man's been spooked like this recently.

Tim can't shake it, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. All week, he's had this skin-crawling feeling that trouble's brewing and he's done his best to ignore it, pretend it wasn't there. In fact, it's be….

"McGee?" From just two steps behind him, Gibbs questions, interrupting the younger man's thoughts. "What is it?"

Glancing briefly at his boss, Tim sighs in resignation, mentally accepting the fact that he will have to let the man in on this sooner or later, anyway – and just deal with the mockery and doubt that will come from both him and Tony and maybe even Ziva. Better now than _after _something comes of this sense he's been having. Truth be told, he knows he should have already said something – days ago. Looking back at the man more directly now; he answers him truthfully and as quietly as possible, thankful Tony was too far away to hear him. "I'm being followed, Boss."

Before Gibbs can even offer a response, Tony looks over the roof of the car, calling out from the driver's side as he opens the car door. "What's wrong with you, McNervous? You look like a scared little rabbit."

Frowning at how far Tony's voice reaches, Tim walks around and gets in behind the Senior Field Agent, without saying a word while a thoughtfully silent Ziva gets in behind Gibbs, settling in to ride shotgun.

No sooner has Tony pulled into drive than Gibbs is turning slightly in his seat so he can look at the person he needs to talk to. "How long?"

Tim looks away from the view outside and forces himself to look directly back at his boss. He knows there is no point in beating around the bush and he isn't in the mood for it anyway. Knowing exactly what Gibbs is asking, he answers him as honestly as he can. "Three days; that I noticed, anyway."

"What's going on? Noticed what, McGee?" Tony immediately butts in, surprised, if not a little put out, that Probie is having a conversation with the boss that he knows nothing about. That's not the way things are supposed to work on this team.

Ignoring his Senior Field Agent's question for the moment, Gibbs continues to hold Tim's eyes as he directs the younger man to answer the question in his place. "McGee."

"Boss." Tim's tone begs the man to give him an out; the okay _not _to have this conversation with Tony present. He doesn't want to have to deal with the Senior Field Agent's brash attitude or propensity for making fun of Tim's troubles on any given day.

"We need to know, McGee." The boss reminds him with the calm authority that always brings a sense of security to Tim's inner person. This tone cements his order that Tim spill it all, to all of them. There's no arguing with it.

Tim sighs in frustration even as he acknowledges that this is non-negotiable. "Okay."

Gibbs nods in acceptance that his word is about to be obeyed and turns back in his seat, settling down comfortably.

Glancing over at the long silent Ziva, Tim takes in the fact that she's watching him with concern. He knows she's been watching him since he first spoke to Gibbs outside the car. Smiling softly at her, he turns his eyes back to the front of the vehicle, locking them on the windshield instead of any one person, afraid to see the looks on their faces as he tells them the story. Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly before opening his mouth.

"It was Friday morning when…

******NCIS******

_Three days ago – Friday Sept 9, 2011_

The minute he steps outside, he feels it. The hair suddenly stands straight up on the back of his neck and his heart rate quickens as if in preparation for trouble. Pausing in his steps towards his car, he takes the time to look around him; every square inch of his surroundings from his vantage point. He sees no one and he's late for work, or will be if he doesn't get his tail in gear. Sighing in frustration, he tosses his gear bag in the passenger seat of his car and gets in.

Driving out of his apartment complex parking lot, he realizes for the first time in a long time, that he regrets giving the dog away. It doesn't matter that he hadn't wanted Jethro, the drug sniffing dog in the first place. What matters right now is that he knows if he still had him, this feeling of being watched could have been followed through with some serious investigation with the help of the German Shepherd's nose for trouble.

Sighing yet again, Tim mentally berates himself for wasting time playing the 'if only' game. He refocuses on the day ahead. It's been a very rough year and the team's been through a lot both on the job and off. He wonders if anyone else on the team realizes the anniversary date is coming up soon. It still amazes him that they all lived through it. Then again, he wonders if the others even think back to that god-awful experience almost a year ago. He sure does. There's little about it he'll ever forget.

_Damn it! Stop thinking about it! Here and now! Focus_! With a rueful scoff, Tim does just that; puts the history away and thinks forward to today. Friday. Thankfully, it's a day without an open case and they can start fresh – which means breakfast. It's gonna be a good day, even if they are working this weekend.

Getting out of his car at the Navy Yard employee parking lot, Tim breathes in and out for a minute. Looking around, he huffs out a self-depreciating laugh. _Of course. It was just his imagination. Go figure._

******NCIS******

By lunch time, Tim has all but forgotten about that creeped out feeling from this morning and makes the run for lunch. It's a rare occasion that he's willing to leave the yard when it's his turn to go pick up everyone's lunch order, but for some reason he's happy to have the time to himself to do it in. His mood quickly changes when he feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up once more, before he even gets in his car.

Glancing around, he once again comes up with nothing. Of course with all the people coming and going, there's no way to tell. The only thing he does know is that no one is standing still long enough to be targeting him. Frustrated, he gets in his car and proceeds with his errand since he can't exactly tuck his tail between his legs and run back inside.

Keeping a watchful eye out, he relaxes when he doesn't spot a tail anywhere along his route. Even when he's picked up the lunch orders and carefully checked his surroundings before getting back in his car at the café, he comes up empty. Half way back to the Navy Yard, he's mentally berating himself for putting himself through this kind of irrational fear. It's taken him years to get over other fears of this magnitude – like heights and maggots and there's no reason to go back there now.

Getting out of his car, he juggles the bagged food, drink tray and his keys while hitting the lock button on his keypad. He's taken all of two steps away from his car when he gets overwhelmed with that skin crawling feeling that he's being watched. Swallowing hard, he quickens his steps and hurries back inside the building.

All afternoon long, as he worked, Tim wracked his brain as to who would be following him and why. He isn't sure what's more frustrating; coming up empty or not being able to completely shake the feeling this time. The only thing he does know is that both Tony and the boss keep glancing at him so he needs to put it away and focus on work better.

The end of the day arrives soon enough, even though Gibbs didn't let them go until after six. With the days getting shorter, Tim knows from checking that sunset is due at 7:28 so he's got less than an hour and a half to get home if he wants to get there before dark; which, until this gut feeling of his settles down, he does.

After checking frequently all the way out of D.C. for any signs of a tail, Tim relaxes and pulls into the grocery story he likes that's not far from his apartment. He's got a week's worth of shopping to do and since he's not tired, he intends to make the most of it since it beats the hell out of trying to do this when it's down to either shopping or starving and he's already exhausted from a tough week.

Coming out of the store nearly an hour later, Tim is quick to look around for signs of trouble. Sighing with relief, he loads everything into his car as quickly as he can and wastes no time heading home. Okay, so the day's been a strange one and he's not completely convinced he's being followed. That sounds like the perfect reason for not telling anyone just yet; if at all.

_This would make for a great story_. Tim scoffs. _Yeah, right. Like I'm gonna do anymore writing. Uh-uh. Not gonna happen_. _Let's just focus, here, alright?_ His internal pep talk works apparently, because soon his mind is off into the land of planning ahead with what groceries he's just bought. By the time he reaches his apartment complex, all thoughts of today's strangeness have gone and he's completely focused on unloading the groceries from his car.

Tim's made three trips and is gathering the last of the bags from his car on the fourth trip when he feels it. The _'stop what you're doing because trouble's found you' _feeling. He does stop, but only long enough to look around in the darkness, lit only by the parking lot lights. Since he's still carrying until he's finished going in and out of his apartment, he sets the groceries back down in his car, locking it up tight even as he reaches for his weapon. With his hand curling comfortably around the handle of his gun, he quickly making his way back inside while still keeping his eyes peeled.

Safe inside his apartment building, Tim moves to an out of the way place and stares out into the night, searching for whoever this might be. It's really beginning to unnerve him, the way this feeling comes on so strong and then disappears like he's imagined it. He's reluctant to put it down to a lack of sleep, but he knows the rest of his team probably will; at least until he has gotten some rest.

Tiredly, he sighs as he heads up to his apartment, still watchful and cautious, one hand remaining nestled on the weapon at his side. Reaching his apartment door, he notices it doesn't look like it's been touched or tampered with so he begins to relax. Once again, whatever's going on is not touching him tonight.

Maybe tomorrow, he'll address it with Gibbs – IF it happens again

******NCIS******

For the rest of the weekend, things fell out the same way. Every time Tim left his apartment building, he felt it- that hair-raising skin, crawling feeling that he was being watched. The other time he felt it was anytime he left NCIS on the Navy Yard. As a result, the next two days became increasingly unsettled for Tim who finally began to admit to himself that he was not imagining things.

The question remained what to do about it; what to say to whom, if anyone? He was past caring about the possibility of being mocked or belittled for what he had to say; but he wasn't past needing to be heard; taken seriously. And he certainly wasn't past taking this completely seriously himself now. But, he couldn't quite trust that the others would feel the same way.

He lives by the adage: _'When in doubt, don't.' _for a reason.

******NCIS*******

**_Monday_**_ Sept 12, 2011_

Settling comfortably into their booth at the diner under the bridge, Gibbs looks across the table at Tim with his normal careful scrutiny. The younger man finished his tale as they were pulling into the parking lot here and hasn't said a word while they got out of the car and walked in. The boss hasn't lost his concern for his agent's state of mind. "Still feel it?"

Tim shakes his head. "No. It's like it's just disappeared. I know you don't feel it; any of you. Guess it was just me - again."

"McGee. Do not doubt your own gut feeling. We have all become accustomed to 'going with our gut' yes?" Ziva offers quietly from her seat next to him as she speaks for the first time since this conversation began back at the office. "Do not be so quick to doubt yourself."

"Ziva's right, McGoo." Tony throws in before picking up his glass of water and guzzling it down in one go. Setting his glass down, he smirks at the younger man. Besides, maybe finally speaking up drove it away." Now he slides a sideways smirk to the boss as if they're sharing in some private joke on Tim's behalf. But the boss is only looking at Tim, apparently taking this very seriously.

"Not likely, Tony." Tim scoffs in self-mockery as he wipes his sweaty palms on his pant legs before bringing them up to the table and settles them around his own water glass. His eyes find the ice water within the glassware fascinating as his mind steps back to the mockery he's just been dealt from Tony.

It's nothing new, but it's really getting old. Then again, Tony is who Tony is and the man's never going to change. That probably goes triple for the boss who always sits back and ignores it all. _Focus, Tim! Focus on what? Relax! Oh, yeah, I can do that. Maybe._

Silence drops in while they wait for their orders and only them thanking the waitress for their food when she brings it, breaks that familiar invisible entity. For the rest of the meal, only Tony's return to useless trivia questions takes the place of it. Relieved, Tim tucks himself back behind his wall of invisibility, letting the others step up into the conversations. He likes it that way because it cuts down on giving Tony ammunition.

The meal finished by all and coffees sitting in front of all three of them, Tony finally addresses Tim seriously. "Relax, Tim. I was just jerkin' your chain. Ziva's right. Stop doubting yourself. Listen to that gut. We've all learned that. Haven't we?"

Tim nods, too bowled over by this change in Tony attitude. He hadn't seen it coming. But he's grateful for it. Looking over at the older man, he shares a quiet look that speaks of genuine concern and understanding. Maybe there's hope for their working relationship yet.

**_*****NCIS*****_**

It's two hours later and they've all returned to the Navy Yard after relishing quiet after dinner drinks and idle conversation; a rarity among them as a group. With one last silent questioning look, the boss triple-checks with Tim as to whether or not that sense of being followed has returned. With a tiny smile of apology, Tim shakes his head and softly admits that it hasn't. "No. Boss, I'm sor..."

"Well! I still say we shouldn't ignore this. But, I for one am ready to call it a night. Tony remarks as he deliberately intervenes before Tim gets himself a head slap for apologizing. "Night all." He calls out as he heads to his own vehicle while Ziva does likewise, politely speaking to them first. "Good night, Gibbs. Good night, Tim."

With a nod, Gibbs heads to his own vehicle while Tim remains standing in place. It's bugging him, really bugging him that he's put himself out this way to the team - only for it to all fade into nothingness because once again, that feeling has gone away as if it hadn't been there. Not that he wants something to happen, but…

"Hey!"

The sound of the boss speaking to him again has Tim raising his eyes to meet those cobalt blue orbs of unwavering authority across the few feet of distance between them. "Boss?"

"You spendin' the night here, McGee?"

Tim sighs and shakes his head as he covers the distance between the two of them, needing the older man to hear what he feels must be said. Coming to a stop in front of his boss, Tim looks at him and offers an olive branch. "I _am _sorry."

A quick cuff upside the head is all the response he gets but he can't help but smirk because it's not a sharp one and there's no sting to it. Staring back at the _'knock it off.'_ expression on the older man's face now, Tim laughs quietly. "Yes, Boss."

"Go home. Get some sleep."

"Nite, Boss."

"Nite."

And like that, they're gone their separate ways for the evening as if nothing evil is lurking in their future. Although it does provide for a good night's sleep, ignorance is _not_ always bliss.

*******NCIS********

Outside a chilly, dark, abandoned warehouse, – in the very late night hours, three hooded figures stand together with their hoods pulled far up over their heads, each one wearing a different color .

Charcoal is holding an envelope wrapped in a rubber band – in each hand.

Black and Dark Green each hold out a hand expectantly.

Instead of handing over the envelopes, Charcoal shoves the envelopes back in his pockets and several short words are spoken with unveiled anger. "You screwed up!

"Didn't know he was so easy to spook." Black replies without missing a beat.

"Didn't know he'd stay so alert, neither." Dark Green sprouts defensively.

"Plan B." Charcoal is still angry. "You get paid – IF it's done on time. So don't screw up this time."

No words are spoken as they go their separate ways – Black and Dark Green getting into separate white vans while Charcoal watches the other two drive away, empty-handed but motivated to get it right this time.


	3. Chapter 2

_Thursday __Sept 15, 2011- 0800_

By 0800 on Thursday, as the week rolls out into a string of days spent quietly working cold cases, the team is finally beginning to breathe easier. The pall of one of them being under the umbrella of danger has dissipated enough for them to get their focus turned back on their work; the feeling of being watched and followed gone by Monday night. Being seasoned Field Agents; they are smart enough and experienced enough to know not to completely disregard the threat as it's been acknowledged. Unfettered out as it was, the sense of being in danger has affected them all.

Rather than laugh at Tim or make fun of him for having been spooked; as Tim had feared he would, Tony has risen to the occasion, once he'd seen how serious Gibbs took the situation. The Senior Field Agent has made it his mission to show the others that he's just as capable of being there for the team, as Gibbs is, at least in intention, anyway. The more serious attitude from the chronic cut-up hasn't gone unnoticed by anyone on the team, though all of them respect him enough not to comment on it. Even Ducky and Abby have commented on it, although the explanation given to them was short and with obvious embarrassment on Tim's part. They have been quick to support the caution displayed by the team since neither of them believe in ignoring 'the gut'.

Tim has spent the week, guarded by Tony, shadowed by Ziva, scrutinized by Gibbs and hounded by Abby between her phone calls and emails that soon becomes almost insane in number. Between the four of them, the younger man hasn't had a moment's worry – or a moment's peace. He hasn't been able to go five feet outside the building without one of his team members checking the surrounding area, as he, himself had done on Monday. Ziva and Tony have even followed both him and Abby home every night. He's grateful for their support but stretched to the limits of his ability to focus on work with the others on the team acting so differently. There has to be some balance somewhere and he's going to address the issue here in a minute.

Gibbs, however, seems to beat him to the punch as he announces calmly and in his typical short fashion, that enough is enough and everyone needs to find normal and get back to it. He doesn't have to say anything else. They all know that staying alert and focused at all times, as they're supposed to do on any given day – should be more than sufficient to keep themselves and each other safe. It's a given that Abby will continue to be escorted home and back for the foreseeable future, but the agents are more than capable of looking after themselves. If they aren't, well, then the MCRT isn't the place for them to be working in the first place.

The rest of the morning rolls by with little disruption and much more focus on cold case perusing than the previous part of the week has been. Soon enough the morning has given way to noon and at least one stomach begins to rumble with hunger. Lunch is ordered in, purely for the sake of not having to extend the effort towards leaving their desks.

A quick succession of bathroom breaks among them and the afternoon soon settles in with plenty more cold case reading to keep them company. None of them finds anything new or even old, worth chasing down within the cases on their desks, so it's a long afternoon that borders on the sense of boredom. This kind of day usually sends Tony into another epic tantrum of distraction by pranks. Today, however, the Senior Field Agent merely tosses down his pen, stretches his arms over his head and cracks his neck with obvious exaggeration a few dozen times – earning him frequent glares from the boss but little else; well, except looks of concern from both Tim and Ziva, that is.

Between the drudgery of reading through the cases and the distraction of Tony's bounty of interruptions, it's no wonder Tim begins to feel a headache coming on. He even mentally excuses away the sick feeling in his stomach by convincing himself that it's just jumpiness from nerves or maybe the chicken salad sandwich he'd ordered at lunch. Either way, he says nothing and keeps his focus on the case in his hands.

Needless to say, there's a joint sigh of relief when the boss calls it a day at 1900 hours. Almost in tandem; although Tim is lagging behind enough that it's noticeable, the three younger agents shut off their work stations, round their desks and meet in the middle of the room, sharing an amused grin at the oddity of that happening. The moment lifts the mood even higher and it seems to be the break in the strain they've all needed. Tony is quick to widen the window of opportunity to cast this all behind them, stopping them all in their tracks for the moment.

"Hey, how bout we get together after work tomorrow night – say this time – dinner at our favorite place?"

"Sounds good, Tony." Tim agrees quietly as he glances at the older man. "Count me in. I'll get Abby, Jimmy and Ducky to come too. It's been a tough week on all of us."

"I will be there as well." Ziva offers. "It will be nice. Tim is right. We can all use the time to relax, yes?"

"Boss?" Tim asks with hope as he glances the Team Leader's way.

"Let ya know." Gibbs replies without committing to anything as he gets to his feet behind his desk while picking up his coffee cup.

"C'mon, Boss! It's be great!" Tony pushes in his usual way, only to earn the boss' glare in return. "Right. You'll let us know. Got it. Okay."

"Get some sleep, all of ya's!" The boss calls back over his shoulder as he heads out of the room.

As the Tony, Tim and Ziva walk out together, their ride down to sign out is relatively quiet as tiredness creeps in amongst them. Sitting still for so long can wear a body out and for these three, it's no different. It's a silence that lasts until they reach the employee parking lot and the fresh air, all of them together in a more recently uncommon moment of team togetherness at the end of the day, Tony calls out across the distances between their parked cars which, as it happens, are parked in a four-square grouping closely together, "Cross your fingers we don't get a case or a break in a cold one, huh?"

"Boy, you really are looking forward to this dinner tomorrow night." Tim marvels.

"What's not to look forward to, Probie? A quiet dinner with just the 7 of us – at our favorite diner - after a week of boredom? And just think, we don't even have to wait for the next holiday!" Tony draws him a mental picture. "Gibbs giving us the okay to cut out at 6:30 sharp to meet our reservation? That reminds me, make the reservation, Probie."

"How'd I know that was coming? Yeah, okay, Tony, I'll take care of it." Tim concedes, involuntarily wincing at the volume of their voices. He'd never noticed before just how loud they really did talk. No wonder other employees are always scowling at them when they're gathered like this. Maybe it's the headache that hasn't gone away that's talking but everything seems too loud right now.

"Knew I could count on you, Probie. Now, if nobody bails, it'll be great." Tony comments as he glances at Tim. Stopping for a minute he walks closer to him. "What's goin' on, McGee? You don't look so hot."

"Just a headache, Tony. I'll be fine." Tim reassures him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Tony. Go on. I'm fine. Thanks." Tim vows as he unlocks his own car and offers one last word to his team mates. "See you tomorrow, guys." He climbs in his car and pulls out, headed for home and on the advice of the boss, a good night's sleep.

"Breakfast run in the mornin', Ziva?" Tony wonders aloud as he turns his attention from the departing younger man over to her.

"Yes, Tony. I know it is my turn to pick up breakfast. I will not forget." The lone woman agent on the team promises.

"Knew I could count on you, too." He smirks. "See ya in the A.M."

"Good night, Tony."

***********NCIS*************

It's been a long half-hour of driving as he struggles now with an unexpected wave of exhaustion while trying to climb the stairs to his apartment. Every muscle seems to ache and every limb feels like lead as he forces himself to continue on- having not quite yet reached the home-front. Coming from almost out of nowhere as it has – he's a little worried about this fatigue; but not so much that he lets it take over his thought process With his mind already on what he might be able to just quickly throw together for dinner since there's no way he has the energy to cook tonight, he absently looks down as he unlocks the door to his apartment. Distracted as he is, he vaguely notices that the floor around the welcome mat he keeps in front of his door seems unusually shiny. Maybe he is more tired than he realized if he's worried about the color of the floor.

Dropping his keys and id on the table just inside the door, Tim locks his weapon away and drags himself back to the kitchen. With a quick peek in the refrigeration, he snags the fixings for a deli-style roast beef sandwich and throws one together. Swiping a bottled water from the refrigerator, he plops down at the kitchen counter and inhales his dinner. Too tired to think, it doesn't faze him that he shouldn't be this hungry or this tired.

*******NCIS*******

Once home after picking up a pizza along the way, Tony's kicked back and relaxing on his sofa, his feet up on his coffee table while he takes the time to let the day go. Something's niggling at the back of his mind that won't quite let him completely relax. The week sure has been a strange one and it's almost over. They're not on call or working this weekend so there's the break they desperately need.

But what is it about today that is standing out as 'off'? Damn it, he just can't put his finger on it! Three slices of pizza later, the tiredness is full-blown and he gives up the fight. Throwing the pizza in the fridge, he hits the hay. Maybe it'll come to him after he's had some shut-eye.

*******NCIS*******

Ziva's glad the crazy yet boring week is almost over. There is a mountain of relief that there has been no more threat of harm for Tim or anyone else on the team. She almost wishes for a fresh case – but that would be wishing for something bad to happen to someone and she's just not sadistic. Truly, though, she hopes tomorrow will be less….boring? With a huff of self-depreciating laughter, she eases herself down into the tub, her bubble bath almost instantly soothing away the day. Ah, yes, after this – tomorrow will definitely be better.

*******NCIS*******

After driving a chatty Abby home, Gibbs almost absently drives himself home and straight to the basement, needing to keep his hands busy. Listening to Abby try to keep her own mind off of the uneasiness that she obviously is still keyed into, has his own thoughts stuck on the eerie feeling Monday had brought with it as his mind sorts through the feeling that something's off. It's been a weird week, yet nothing out of the ordinary since Monday night. So, what's with the sense that all is not right? What the hell's he supposed to do about it when he can't figure out where it's coming from or who or why?

Making sure his team is on their toes and staying sharp is their best defense against whatever might come their way and it's a method of operation they try to hold to every day, anyway. Tiredly, he sighs. Sleep. That sounds good right about now. Maybe the cobwebs will be gone in the morning.

********NCIS*********

It's hours later and Tim's tossing and turning in his bed. He's unable to find sleep as something nagging tugs at his brain. He'd made quick work of eating, throwing away the wrappings from the food items and shuffling off to his bedroom. Not even bothering to get undressed, he'd literally dropped into bed, knowing he'd find sleep pretty damned quick. Yet, here he is, not only still awake at nearly one in the morning, but still fighting that damned headache, too.

Giving up on the attempt to find sleep, at least for now, Tim sits up in bed. As his head is cradled by the pillow he's stuffed behind it at the backboard, he attempts to focus on pulling whatever it is that's bugging him to the forefront of his mind. It's no use; whatever it was, has slipped beyond his mental reach. He's so tired now.

Not only that; but he feels dizzy and sick to his stomach again, just like he had after lunch today. What the hell's wrong with him? Before he can begin to find the answer, sleep finds him and takes him away.

********NCIS********

Abby is just beginning to calm down about her family being in danger. Being driven home by Gibbs tonight has helped a lot, since he's the one, out of all of them, that lets her chatter away without interrupting her. Spending all of your free time and most of your busy time worrying about your family and trying to keep tabs on them all day, every day - is very draining and Abby finds herself more than ready for an early night of it tonight.

It's barely thirty minutes after she gets home before she's ready for bed and tucking herself in to her coffin just the way she likes it. With a last minute set of prayers sent up for her family members, she closes her eyes and lets sleep find her. Tonight, at least, she'll rest peacefully.

********NCIS********

_In the very late hours, Charcoal arrives at the warehouse – where Dark Green and Black are already waiting for him outside._

_"Is it done?" Charcoal demands of Black by way of greeting. Both of these yo-yo's had a job to do and if they're not done…_

_"Of course." Black replies instantly as he thinks back over the fun he's just had sneaking around and slipping his special concoction into a drink here and a supply of food there. "Easy."_

_"Did you do it?" Charcoal now asks of Dark Green._

_"See for yourself." Dark Green tosses back at him nonchalantly as he nods his head in the direction of the warehouse. "Exactly what you wanted – on time."_

_"So, we're still on schedule." Charcoal suggests in a way that makes it very much not a suggestion at all, but a demand that had better be met._

_"Yes."  
"Yes."_

_"Good."_

_Together, the three sweatshirts enter the dark, abandoned warehouse, flipping the lights on as they walk into the room, windows darkened from the inside. _

_No one can see in and no one can see out._


	4. Chapter 3

_0700 Friday morning and everything is __back to normal__, or is it? _

"Where the hell is McGee?" Gibbs barks as he returns to the squad room from the Director's Office at 0705 and sees the computer geek's desk is bare.

"I am not certain, Gibbs." Ziva answers quickly. "I have not seen him this morning. Perhaps he is stuck in traffic?"

"Nah, not Probie. He woulda called by now if that were the case." Tony smirks from behind his own desk where he's already comfortably laid back in his chair. "Twenty bucks says he's oversleeping right about now and can't even hear his alarm clock."

"That right, DiNozzo?" Gibbs questions with a glare in his Senior Field Agent's direction. "That why you're still here?"

"Really?" Tony's up out of his seat, his eyes lit with excitement at the permission he's just been granted. " Aw, this'll be fun! I haven't gotten to rouse the Probie outta bed in ages! Comin', Ziva?"

"Need her to hold your hand, DiNozzo?" Gibbs growls now that he's in a bad mood. He hates it when his team is late; especially when they don't check in. On the heels of what they went through earlier in the week, not to mention the less than restful night's he's had over it; is not helping matters. In fact, that in itself is firing up his anger at Tim for pulling a stunt like this. _Back up, Gunny!_ _You know he's never late!_

The sharp reminder brings him short, as he waits for his gut to tell him something. Mentally refusing to believe that anyone would hurt Tim, the kindest heart on the team - one of _his_ kids, Gibbs finds himself shaking it off, but also curtailing his usual coffee run, continuing on to the break room because for once, he's willing to make do with the stuff they brew in there. A couple of sips later and he's changing his mind; setting his cup down and pouring the pot of coffee down the sink - settling in to make a fresh pot of it - his way. If he's gonna stay close to home, damn it, the coffee's gonna have to be a damned sight better than this!

*******NCIS********

Tony's unbridled glee at being able to bother Tim at home is extremely short-lived. Before he's even reached his car, it's turned to concern. He's tried to call Tim at least a dozen times by now and each time, his call's gone unanswered until the voicemail's kicked on. The Senior Field Agent's getting more worried by the minute. After the week they've had, where caution ruled the day - _this_ is just too damned out of place. Probie's never late without calling in: unless something's wrong.

Forcing himself to follow the rules of the road, his foot itches to channel Ziva right about now and as soon as he clears the city limits' he's mashing the pedal.

The miles are soon eaten up and he's pulling off the main road in less than fifteen minutes. Still feeling unsettled, he keeps the speedometer at the outer limits of the posted speed and continues to hope that Tim's okay. Thankfully, he finally reaches the younger man's apartment complex and quickly exits his car, locks it and runs for the building.

As fast as he can, he's inside and bounding up the stairs, not waiting for the elevator. In long, hurried strides, he's down the hallway and at Tim's door, pounding on it something fierce.

"Probie! Open up! You're late and Gibbs is pissed!"

Of course, he's completely forgotten that for some people, especially those who happen to work nights, like at least one of Tim's neighbors, it's too damned early for such a racket. It's less than a minute later when several doors on the hallway open and angry complaints are thrown at him.

_"Hey!"__  
__"Do you mind?"_  
_"Some of us work at night, ya know!"_

Tony holds out his badge in his turned up hands, clearly showing them authority mixed with surrender and apology. "Sorry. Just checkin' on my partner. He's late, so... have you seen anything strange lately? Anyone around here that shouldn't be or doesn't live here maybe?" Tony asks the three of them; receiving only tired shaking heads and doors closing behind retreating backs for his trouble. "Yeah, big help there." Tony mutters as he stuffs his badge into his pocket and quickly digs out the spare key- loaned to him by Ziva. He'd made sure to put it in his pocket, close at hand before he'd arrived here. Now, he lets himself in the apartment; his gut clenched that something is definitely not right.

Stepping inside, Tony looks twice. There's nothing out of place. It's as if Tim's been too busy at work to live at home. There's no sign that the kid's been doing anything here; no book left out, no record pulled from the bookcase, no shoes, light jacket or clothes of any kind lying around; not even a movie case sitting out on his living room table. The kitchen's only slightly more lived in, with his dinner from last night sitting barely eaten in the trash - an open bottle of water sitting on the counter by the sink.

Heading to the bedroom, Tony grins. Ah, yes! Just as he'd hoped; Probie's just over-sleeping. The big unmistakable lump in his bed that has to be him, is all tossed and turned looking with the sheets completely tangled up around him. With a grin a mile wide, Tony takes out his phone and snaps a photo for evidence before putting it away. He slams the bedroom door shut - the guaranteed way to wake anyone up - wincing at the realization that he's probably just pissed Tim's neighbors off yet again.

**BANG!**

Tim's eyes pop open and promptly shut themselves down again. Fast. Seeing, a somewhat fuzzy tall pile of colors that vaguely resembles a person, Tim speaks to it. "T...ny?" He attempts to sit up in bed, but his body refuses to obey and he groans from the aborted effort. "Wh...t time is it?"

"O800 now. Which means, McRipVanWinkle, that _you_ are late? C'mon, Get up while I call Gibbs and tell him that I won the pool on this one." The Senior Field Agent walks back out into the hallway to make his call.

Rather than argue with the man who's already walking out of the room anyway, Tim focuses on forcing his body to obey his unspoken commands and get up out of bed since the mention of Gibbs' sends a wave of dread through him Doubtless, he's facing a day chock full of piercing angry glares, at the very least. Surprised he's still wearing yesterday's clothes, he shuffles over to his closet for a fresh outfit, while his brain scrambles to figure out why he's just overslept like this when he very rarely does so.

With the world around him still fuzzy and unsteady, he half-heartedly pulls a shirt and pair of pants out at random. Tim doesn't even check to see if they match before he tosses them over his arm and shuffles back around the bed. He stops to grab hold of the bedpost when the world suddenly spins around him. W_hat the hell is going on?_

Once the world stops spinning, he continues on towards the door; the dull sound of Tony talking on the other side of it becoming louder with every step. Not surprisingly, the phone call is already over as evidenced by Tony putting the phone back into his pants pocket, by the time Tim passes him in the hallway. Tim is quick to address the older man in an effort to set things back to normal as soon as possible because taking a shower while one of his team mates is waiting for him is just too far from normal in the grand scheme of things.

"I'm up now, Tony. So, thank you, but you can go. I'll be there as soon as I shower and change."

"Sure thing, Probie." Tony chuckles as he takes his phone back out of his pocket and waves it at the younger man. Just remember, proof's right here. Oh, and Boss man said to tell you that you got some splainin' to do when you get in."

"I'm sure." Tim mutters. "Just wish someone would explain it to me, first."

"What are you sayin', McGee?" Tony asks with enough irritation in his tone that it's more discouraging than he means it to be.

Not willing to put his head in the noose any further just yet, Tim drops it. "Nuthin', Tony. Thank you for coming to check on me, even if you did get enough ammunition to hold over my head for the next year."

"Hey, can't blame a guy for havin' fun, can you?"

"And here I thought the more serious Tony was here to stay." Tim mutters as he walks down the hall. Raising his voice, he calls back over his shoulder. "Lock up behind you, please."

Tony watches with concern as Tim steps into his bathroom and shuts the door between them without another word. Hmmm. _What did he mean by that crack?_

********NCIS********

Thirty minutes later, Tim's finally striding off the elevator at work, still no closer to understanding what is going on with him. He's never late like this and there's no rhyme or reason for the dizziness, extreme hunger or headaches; not to mention the fatigue. Now, he doesn't even have time to let Ducky check him out. He's not sure that's such a good idea anyway. The last thing he needs is a medical diagnosis that will take him out of the game.

Gibbs is most likely, as Tony had said, extremely pissed. Having Tim medically excused from work would only make the situation worse. It's not something he'd wish on his worst enemy. Seeing the Team Leader stand to his feet from behind his desk now and track his movements all the way across the room sends Tim's stomach down to his knees. The glare emanating from the man can melt glass so Tim doesn't offer an apology because the boss doesn't like them and that would undoubtedly make this worse. He takes himself to his desk and drops down into the chair, immediately firing up his work station without speaking, instead.

Apparently, Gibbs is too pissed to even throw out an angry retort because the man says absolutely nothing as he sits back down and gives his attention to the folders on his desk and his monitors alternately. No one says anything further and before too long, the clacking of computer keys is the only sound that's heard in the squad room. Just as Tim's suspected, any movement on his part throughout the remainder of the morning, that even remotely resembles the look of him getting out of his chair, is met by the angry, opposing glare from directly across the room.

Thinking of trying to discuss the less than normal things that have been going on with him, with the boss, he's made a few attempts to address the man; barely getting his mouth open while looking his way; only to be shot down by those glares. Even more telling, is the fact that for once, Gibbs isn't showing any signs of getting out of his own chair; not even for a fresh cup of coffee! The mood in their work space now, seems to speak for the lingering atmosphere they can expect for the day, as the hours roll on after that, with no sign of Gibbs losing his ire directed at the youngest team member.

It's nothing new for Tim. He's used to it and he knows that this time he's seriously earned it himself, even if he can't explain why it's happened. It'll be a while before he's out of the dog house with the boss. It doesn't even cross his mind that the very reason he's wanting to talk to the man is the same reason it's not really his fault. He just knows that right now, peace and quiet and actual work is all that matters. For once, even Tony doesn't try to diffuse the situation, beyond sending Tim a piece of advice via email.

_"Let it go. He's not gonna listen to you today."_

If anything, Tim's words from this morning have sobered Tony up. The younger man's ability to sound out the heart of the problem oftentimes seems to be too much like bragging. But in this case, there's too much truth to what he'd said. The serious Tony of earlier in the week _was_, well - serious. And as the reasons behind his alternate persona re-filter through his mind, the Senior Field Agent can't help but frown. He'd acted like a jackass earlier. Something Tim's rarely done to him no matter what was dished out to him; and always apologized for when it did happen. Guilt keeps the Senior Field Agent quietly thinking as the hours roll on.

********NCIS*********

Even lunchtime rolling around doesn't ease the tension in the work space and Tim refuses to leave his desk. Beyond taking Tony's email as sage advice and following it, he's remained zoned in on his searches. Tony and Ziva have emailed him requests for help with their searches and so he's stayed very busy. He's glad of that because the last thing he wants to fall on anyone's radar today so the less visual he is, the better. Losing himself in the online world of cyber searches earlier, he'd lost all track of everything else around him - including his lessening headache and upset stomach. Surprisingly enough, a boxed burger that smells great appears on his desk from out of nowhere and smelling it is the only thing that pulls him from his work.

Glancing around the room, he finds himself alone in the squad room. Funny, he hadn't even heard anyone call for lunch break or talk about leaving for theirs. Apparently, whomever has been kind enough to make sure he eats, isn't interested in forcing him to talk or wanting thanks. With a small smile of appreciation, he attempts to eat; hoping his upset stomach won't make him regret it. It's with a sigh of relief that some five minutes after the first bite, he feels no impending revolt. Hungry enough to eat an elephant, he decides its' okay to finish the burger.

As he works his way through it, chasing it down with the bottled water that's been sitting on his desk all morning, he finally makes the time to think back on the weirdness that's been happening to him this week. Concentrating hard now, he recalls something he'd tiredly shrugged off when he got home last night- nothing insidiously out of place or wrong; just something tiny and barely noticeable., his brain is barely bringing the recollection back; his doormat out in the hallway, wasn't it? Oh, right. The doormat he keeps at his door, had been moved about a quarter of an inch off its' usual place, marked by the dust around it because Tim's been forgetting that part of his cleaning lately.

The other piece of this past week that's bothering him is the way he's been feeling. That brings up something he'd briefly thought of this morning. What had it been? Oh, right, a mental note that had crossed his mind when he'd woken up so late and still feeling 'off'. "_Note to self - bag/tag trash from last night's dinner when I get home tonight._ Which brings up something else that's been niggling at the back of his mind; something about Monday and the weekend leading up to it; when he'd felt like he was being followed and watched.

Now if he could just rem...

"Hey, Probie, don't go eatin' too much now, we're still goin' out tonight, remember?" Tony chides as he returns to the squad room and gets back to work without saying anything else. A mere minute later, with the squad room still being otherwise free of people, the Senior Field Agent is back on his feet and standing in front of Tim's desk.

"Something wrong, Tony?" Tim asks with concern as he sets his own thoughts aside for the moment.

"Yeah. The way I acted this morning. I was a jackass. I'm sorry." Tony offers seriously as he stands still long enough to look Tim directly on.

"Thanks. Does this mean..." Tim wonders with hope, though his expression is just as serious as Tony's at the moment.

"That I'll erase the photos? Done."

"Honestly?" The younger man is shocked. This more serious Tony is something to behold, that's for sure. But wait...

"Yeah, Tim. They're gone. I really was outta line. "

"Wow. I guess the serious Tony is here to stay, huh?"

"Shoulda been here long time ago."

"Tony, there's nothin' wrong with cutting' up once in a while." Tim reminds him.

"Just not at someone else's expense."

"True."

"Thought you'd agree. Now, can we get back to work?"

"Sounds like a good idea, McGee." Gibbs adds as he strolls back to his own desk.

Silently, but with a worried glance in Tony's direction, Tim turns his own attention back to his work, nothing else being said between the three of them.

Even Ziva's return a moment later didn't bring about anymore conversation in the squad room. Soon enough, the afternoon hours slipped away as they read, chased leads through computer leads and discussed ideas regarding the cold cases they were each going though. Throughout the afternoon, Tim can't help but keep sneaking a glance over at Tony, still concerned about his too serious demeanor lately.

After about the sixth time, Tony calls him on it with an email. _Knock it off, Probie. I'm fine!_

With a huff of laughter, Tim replies in kind: _Okay. But if you're really not..._

Tony's answer is quick and short; to the point. _Let. It. Go!_

This time, Tim's is the same; short and quick. _Okay._

From across the room, Gibbs growls. "You two knock it off!"

"Yes, Boss."  
"Yes, Boss."

Gibbs frowns. He's unsettled enough not to let his team out of his sight today and yet he can't put his finger on why. Hell, he can't even explain why he doesn't want to hear what Tim wants to tell him. Maybe because he knows it'll just be an apology from this morning; or an excuse. _Sellin' him short again, Gunny! You at least know him better than that- on both counts!_

Tiredly, the man scrubs his hand across his face. Yeah, he does know Tim better than that, but the reluctance has its grip and isn't letting go. Looking over at his youngest agent, he sees him lost in his search world. Let sleeping bears lie, at least for now, he tells himself as he mentally makes a note to talk to Tim after work.

With the tension in the work space now broken, Tony hedges the question that's in need of an updated answer. "Boss, you decide if you're comin' with us tonight?"

"If we don't get a case, DiNozzo."

"Yes! You'll have fun hangin' out with us, Boss!"

Tim grins silently as he keeps on working while Ziva doesn't even break stride in her own keystroking while offering her own opinion. "l will challenge you to a game of pool too make sure of that, Gibbs."

Gibbs grins as he shakes his head. "Don't play pool, Ziva."

"You ...you don't play pool? Seriously, Boss?" Tony is shocked.

"Work, DiNozzo!" Gibbs growls as he sets them all back on course for the afternoon. All in all, a quiet, yet somewhat productive afternoon that seemed endless and drove the three younger ones to yearn for the end of the day. That is until Four o'clock arrives, bringing with it groans of irritation when Gibbs' phone rings. "Yeah. Gibbs." The boss answers it.

""Yeah, I knew this would happen!" Tony exclaims with frustration. "The first time in forever that we actually plan something..."

"Grab your gear!" Gibbs calls out as he gets to his feet, gears up and leads the way to the elevator. "Not you, McGee. You stay here, run the name when we call you with it; get us a head start on what we're gonna need."

"On it, Boss." Tim offers quietly as he sits back down and lets his gear bag fall back down to the floor.

"Make sure you keep our reservation, too Probie. In case we're not back before then." Tony calls out as he hurries after Gibbs.

"Will do, Tony." Tim promises as he turns back to his computer and scrolls through his search programs, making sure none of them are already busy on another search, since he'll need them soon. Keeping an eye on the time, Tim works to finish the digging he's started on his cold case while he waits for the team to call him with a name for their victim and or suspect so he can begin the searches.

When an hour and a half goes by without a call for him to help with the case, Tim begins to worry. Picking up the phone, he calls Tony. He's still listening to it ring when Abby shoes up in the squad room.

"Hey, McGee. Are you ready?" She's bouncing on her toes with excitement and only the fact that Tony finally picks up on the other end saves Tim from having to answer her.

_"Hey, Probie. Missing person wasn't actually missing. Open and shut and we're not even sure who the hell called it in, but we're gonna be a little late since we're just now heading back. Looks like you four mousekateers will be startin' without us."_

Looking pointedly at Abby now, Tim answers the man, "You've got plenty of time yet. Tony. We'll get there on time, don't worry about it"

_"You're a good man, McGee. At least you know what's important, right? Ow! Thank you, Boss! See ya in a few, Probie.!_"

Chuckling, Tim hangs up and glances back over at Abby. "You're in just as much of a hurry for this as Tony is."

"Well, yeah, McGee, it's only the first time in like forever!" Abby reminds him almost as if she's scolding him for needing such a reminder. "Almost feels like a new experience."

"I'm glad to see you get so excited about new experiences, Ms. Scuito." Leon Vance says from just behind her. "Because I have a new assignment for you. Last minute notice, challenging and yet, somehow, I think you'll not only excel at it but enjoy it as well."

"Ooh, I'm all ears, Director!" Abby exclaims with the childlike excitement she's renowned for.

With eyebrows raised, Vance relays the information even as he hands her two pages of white paper, stapled together. "A Case by Case Study of Forensic Science Thinking Outside The Box."

"You're sending me to a class on that?" Abby asks in surprise.

"Not as a student." Vance replies dryly.

"OOH! I'm teaching?" At the Director's look that says, _'what else would I mean?'_ Abby's a happy, loud little camper. "Oh, Thank you!" Throwing herself at the man, she hugs him briefly yet just as tightly as she's known for before she pulls back and steps back out of his space. "When?"

"Monday morning. Waverly University. That's all the information you'll need. To make a long story, short - it's a 2 day - 3 hour class; starts at 0800 Hours. I expect you back here no later than one; including time for your lunch. Depending on how you do, it may be extended. Oh, and you'll need at least three case studies to meet the class syllabus. The name of your immediate advisor for the class is there. Make sure you contact them before you start and again before you finish at the end of the 2nd day."

"OOH, I'd better go find three doozies then! She marches toward the back of the squad room. Suddenly, she turns and stops. "Sorry, McGee. I won't be joining you guys for dinner after all. I've got a class to prepare to teach!"

Chuckling at her enthusiasm and contagious enjoyment at the news, Tim watches her turn back around and practically dance out of sight, momentarily forgetting that the Director is still standing here with him.

"Agent McGee, tell Agent Gibbs I need to see him when he gets back." Vance orders as he walks on through the room and rounds the corner to head up the stairs to his office.

"Yes, Director." Tim replies seriously as he glances at the clock. Still plenty of time. He's not even sure why they're obsessing over this anyway. That'll just bring Murphy's Law down on them. Crap! Is that what just happened here? Now Tim laughs for real. Yeah, right. Like Murphy really has any say in whether or not Abby gets to share her knowledge with up and coming scientists! That's a bit too much of an imaginative stretch.

It's not long after that the others return, looking more frustrated than relieved. "Boss, Vance wants to see you." Tim advises his boss before the man gets completely around his desk, knowing that would just aggravate him all the more.

With a sigh, Gibbs turns and heads out, tossing back over his shoulder, "Call it a day, McGee! DiNozzo, Da'vid, get your reports done and get outta here once they're on my desk!"

"You comin', Boss?" Tony hollers back at the departing man.

"Case, DiNozzo." Gibbs reminds him.

"Damn!" Tony growls. "Figures!"

"Tony, you know he'll want this completely wrapped up before he leaves. He's doing us a huge favor by letting us go so quick, as it is." Tim reminds him.

"Yeah, I know. Okay, then, let's get crackin', Da'vid!"

With a grin, Tim glances at the clock. If he hurries they'll just get there in time, he, Ducky and Jimmy. "See you there in a few, guys."

"Yup. We'll be there, Probie. Tell them to keep the beer comin'." Tony jibes good-naturedly. "And don't go anywhere alone!"

"Huh? What?"

"Never mind, McKilljoy." Tony quickly retracts his joke, even though he isn't entirely joking.

Shaking his head, Tim heads down to Autopsy to see if Jimmy and Ducky are ready to go. He's disappointed that they're not. Hunkered together in Ducky's office, they offer reassurances that they'll be right behind him getting to the restaurant, Tim heads out alone.

Driving himself off the Navy Yard, Tony's words come back to him. _Don't go anywhere alone._

Why does that strike a familiar warning in his head? What was it this past week that happened that he can't quite put his finger on that reeks of that warning? Something he should have remembered about those first few creepy days of the week. He had seen something, but hadn't recognized it at the time. Concentrating hard now even while driving, he pulls it back to the forefront of his mind. - _a blur of movement on the edge of his peripheral vision - a dark colored sweatshirt against a backdrop of not quite faded light of day_.

With a sense of dread, he realizes he saw the same thing on the Navy Yard - but a different shade of darkness in the blur of movement. Only the fact that the rest of the week had been completely free of any such feeling or sighting, calms him now. That calm is short-lived when his practical side screeches at him; _If it seems like someone's out to get you, they are._

A stubborn piece of his mind suddenly flashed that reminder at him, demanding that he pay attention to it_. Damn it! Gibbs rules are usually pretty dead on, Rule 40's on of the biggies, too._ But, then, why the lack of any further threat or feeling of being watched? What the hell is going on?

_******NCIS******_

Just twenty minutes later, Tim is the first to arrive, having garnered promises from Ducky and Jimmy that they'd be here shortly. Ducky had been unexpectantly delayed by a last minute phone call that required Jimmy's input as well. Being the first to arrive felt strange, but he decided to just go with it.

Shown to the large double tables that have been reserved for them, Tim chooses a seat where he can watch the door. He's quickly served his glass of ice water from a smiling waitress who cheekily trails her finger over his hand when she hands him the menu. Embarrassed, Tim smiles softly and quietly thanks her.

Perusing the menu, Tim's mind doesn't stray back to his earlier thoughts, that is, until Ducky and Palmer walk through the door. Now that he's not at work, there's no better time or opportunity to talk to the Medical Examiner about all this weirdness and unknown. Having Jimmy here might be twice as helpful, too. Two great minds working together to help solve the mystery, right?

"Hello, Timothy." Ducky greets the agent as he takes a seat across from him.

"Hey, Tim." Jimmy chooses to sit at the end of the table two seats down, at least for now.

"Hey, guys." Tim greets them just as he picks up his water glass nervously, drinking down a third of his water. Setting the glass down, he looks over at Ducky. "Ducky, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Oh? Something serious, from the sounds of it." The M.E. returns quietly.

"Yeah, Uhm, all this week, well, ever since I first felt like I was being watched..."

"Go on, Timothy. What else has been going on that you haven't mentioned?"

"Well, I've been...oh, God, I feel sick!" Tim practically jumps up from his chair and makes a beeline for the restroom, a blur of dark colored movement at the edge of his field of vision, sending a fissure of fear up his spine as he hurries. There's no time to worry about that- he's about to lose his lunch! He makes it to the restroom and manages to make it to the toilet as his stomach recoils fully.

Once he's done, he snags a bunch of toilet paper from the roll and scrubs at his mouth, then tossing it into the toilet. Reaching down, he flushes the toilet and heads to the sink, his eyes not yet reaching the mirror. His mind struggles to figure out where this sudden sick feeling came from this time, hoping it wasn't the water - but coming up empty on other possibilities.

Suddenly, the lights go out - as a vicious blow is delivered to the back of his head, knocking down, his eyes barely managing to look into the mirror as they slide closed into the encroaching darkness, vaguely noticing that dark color again before his world goes completely dark.

******NCIS******

"Mr. Palmer, do you have any idea what Timothy might have been referring to?" Ducky asks worriedly as he sits forward in his seat, his arms resting on the table as his hands seek something to hold onto with his water glass.

His attention drawn to the window of the restaurant where a scraggly looking young man of obvious Mexican descent, wearing a dark green sweatshirt and sweatpants is suddenly leaning heavily on the glass, shielding his eyes as he peers inside, as if looking for someone, Jimmy answers the older man almost absently. "No, Dr. Mallard. I don't."

Turning to face his mentor now, Jimmy gives his full attention to the question. "Although I think, from what Tony's commented on, Tim's been having trouble with feeling a little unwell."

"Oh? Unwell, how, exactly?" The older man pushes firmly.

"We..."

Before Jimmy can finish answering the question, that same man, his facial expression one of urgency, suddenly bumps into their table, quite literally, causing their water glasses to shake. He speaks in broken English, yet the urgency is unmistakable. "You... doctor? You.. help me? Please? My friend's... outside... he need doctor!"

"Yes, of course!" Ducky's up out of his seat without hesitation, urging the man to show him to his friend.

"I'll help." Jimmy's instinct to assist is strong and he's just as quick to his feet.

Pausing just long enough to inconspicuously ask the hostess at the door to inform their expected friends that they'll be back shortly, both medical professionals hurry out of the restaurant, after the stranger in need.


	5. Chapter 4

_A/N:My apologies. There is an unexpected & unplanned OC Death in this chapter. It was not in the original plans, but the guy just wouldn't wise up._

* * *

Roughly hauling the downed man up from the bathroom floor and over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, Charcoal Sweatshirt breathes heavily with the added weight on him as he hurries down the short, dark back hall, bustling through the back door in under twenty seconds. Quickly and unceremoniously, he dumps his cargo onto the floor of the already waiting and open van. Snatching up the spray bottle that's there for him, he douses his target liberally with the contents, insuring the unconscious state will be prolonged.

Letting the spray bottle fall back to the floor or the van, he throws a tarp over his catch, shuts the doors quickly and is around the front to the driver's side without any wasted time. Before another minute has passed, he's pulling to a screeching stop five feet after the alley has turned towards the back exit he'll need.– jumping out and throwing open the back doors of the van once again. Right on schedule, he's back in the driver's seat, hoping for their sakes, Dark Green and Black are where they're supposed to be and more than ready to do their jobs when their temp hire does his.

********NCIS*******

"Tony! For the last time, stop nagging! We will be there in a minute!" Ziva explodes impatiently as she navigates the still busy streets and ill-placed stop-lights that are difficult to spot in the best of times.

"It's your fault Zee-vah!" Tony taunts with irritation. "We'd a been there ten minutes ago if you hadn't insist…"

"If I had not gone to check on Abby, yes, Tony I know. You have said this already! How was I to know she was not coming because Vance has given her this new last minute assignment? I believed she was coming with us and needed a ride."

"And it took you ten minutes to figure out that she wasn't coming?" Tony gripes. "Besides, she would have ridden with Ducky if she were coming."

"You are just upset because your car has two flat tires and you had to ride with me to save time and money. Admit it, Tony. _That_ is why we are late!"

"Never happens. Somethin' fishy's goin' on around here." Tony mutters angrily. "Ziva, the speed limit's 45 not 40! C'mon, already, will ya?"

"The restaurant will still be there when we arrive, Tony. As will McGee, Ducky and Jimmy. I do not understand your impatience. You cannot be _that_ hungry because you ate a _very_ big lunch." Ziva chastises him more calmly as she pulls onto the street they need.

"I'm _always_ hungry, Ziva." Tony reminds her before he goes back to complaining. "Why the hell did you pick today to start driving like a normal person, anyway? Can't you step on it a little?"

"If you would bother to stop complaining, you would see that we are just one block away, Tony. See, it is that building with the alley on the other side of it, yes?"

" Thank God, Gibbs didn't come with us. He'd have head slapped you by now just for driving so slow. You're as bad as McGee these days" Tony gripes as she pulls into a parking spot and turns off the car. "When did you start driving like that anyway?"

"McGee is not a bad driver, Tony. He just does not drive as fast as the rest of us and he is more cautious."

"Which makes him a bad driver. My point exactly, Ziva." Tony replies without missing a beat.

"Have you no compassion for the terrible car accident he was in when he was 16, Tony? It is probably that experience that has made him cautious behind the wheel, yes?. How can you find fault with that? Especially since you are the one with a still climbing number of wrecked cars."

"Because that was like 18 years ago, Ziva. C'mon, let's get in there, I'm starvin'" He lengthens his stride towards the street they need to cross. "And almost all of those wrecks are someone else's fault, as you well know." He tosses over his shoulder in answer to her charge.

"Tony! Wait!" Ziva calls him back with a wave of concern when it suddenly hits her that something doesn't feel right.

********NCIS*******

_How did he know Dr. Mallard was a doctor? _Jimmy wonders as heworks to keep up with both his mentor and the stranger asking them for help_. Luring us into something sinister is more like it. _His gut screams as his feet react to his thoughts and slow. "Dr. Mallard. I think we…"

"Hurry! Please!" The stranger implores with an urgency that can't be faked. They've entered the alley next to the restaurant now

"Wait!" Jimmy demands as he slows down even more. "How did you know he was a doctor?"

"You addressed him as Doctor, did you not?" The stranger asks loudly over his shoulder with remarkable calmness despite the aire of impatience surrounding him and in his steps. "I read lips. You called him Doctor!"

Jimmy reluctantly agrees and before he can stop them, the two older men are soon even further ahead of him in the alley, having not slowed down when he had. Now he has to hurry even faster to keep up. But he really should have eaten first because his diabetes is beginning to make itself known. His sugar is dropping and so is his energy.

Still he fights through it and hurries after his mentor. He's beginning to feel faint and dizzy but he doesn't want to leave Ducky alone to deal with this so he keeps on. From out of nowhere, Palmer is bumped roughly enough that he's knocked to the ground, twisting his ankle painfully as he falls on it unexpectedly. "Ow!"

"Ter…ribly so..so..rry! …not see ..u…" A wheezing, drunken voice offers a quick apology.

Seeing stars in his vision, Jimmy can't see the face of the man who's just knocked him down. He can just barely see the unsteady hand that's offered to him to help him up and he takes it. Surprisingly enough, there's no strength in that hand and it's no help in getting Jimmy back on his feet; knocking Jimmy back down to the ground instead. For a brief minute, he struggles to get up but finally manages to do so.

In the distance, he hears a faint 'Ow!" that sounds worryingly like Ducky and with a quick apology tossed at the man who had knocked him down, Jimmy's gone with a burst of adrenaline, quickly following after the elderly man, around the corner of the alley. When he turns the corner, he freezes in his tracks. There's no car with a victim waiting anxiously for help and no sign of Dr. Mallard.

**_****NCIS****_**

Returning from Vance's office some thirty minutes after he'd gone up there, Gibbs sighs tiredly. It's been a long day and he's relieved that his team has been able to break away and go have a meal together. They don't do it often enough. He knows that things like this builds their kinship and sense of togetherness that helps make them the tight-knit team that they are and he'd like to see them do it more often. A part of him wishes he'd participate more.

His Marine side always seems to win out though and he finds his time alone to be soothing in the afterwards of a chaotic day. Sure today's been a calm day by their definition, but with the less than positive start McGee had had to the day, and the trickle-down effect that had had on the rest of them – followed up by the boring drudgery of going through cold cases, with a last minute save from that by a call out, well, he's more than ready for the peace and quiet of the usual choice for him.

********NCIS*******

Walking back over to her to see what her problem is, Tony is quickly getting more than irritated. "What is it, Ziva?"

"Something does not feel right. Can you not feel it?"

Taking a minute to take her seriously and calm his own breathing so he can concentrate, Tony watches her. She never jokes about this when she gets this feeling and she's usually right. Still they would have gotten a phone call if anything had happened here with three of their group already here. Suddenly, he's anxious to get inside. "C'mon, let's go talk to the others."

Crossing the street through the traffic takes a minute and reaching the door of the restaurant just past the alleyway takes another one. Once inside, they look towards their usual table and then at each other when they see that their table is empty. Approaching the Hostess, Tony questions her about their seemingly missing friends. The response they get shocks them.

"The two that just arrived a short time ago, went to help some stranger who came in asking for a doctor's help for a friend. But they made sure to tell me so I could tell you." She'd seen the two men quickly agree to help the stranger and remembered their words to her about letting his expected friends now about their situation.

"Which way did they go?" Ziva asks without wasting any time.

"They went right as they left out. I'm not really sure where exactly from there, but I know they didn't go left when they left here because I would have seen them pass in front of the window and they didn't."

"Thank you." Ziva offers as she hurries after Tony's already retreating back. Stepping outside, both of them withdraw their guns and proceed cautiously down into the alley, questioning their way through this new turn of events.

********NCIS********

Closing down his work station, he heads out, his Team Leader voice rising to the surface in his head again as he changes his mind and decides to go spend some 'off duty' time with his team. Tony had certainly liked the idea and if he hadn't been seeing things, even McGee's face had brightened at the possibility. With a tiny grin, he heads to the elevator, pushing the button to retrieve the box, he's startled back away from his thoughts at the sound of his name being called almost urgently.

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!"

Turning, he faces the voice. "Abby? Something wrong?"

"Yes! I can't decide which cases to use for my class! You have to help me decide!"

"Any case you choose will work, Abbs." He tries to remind her as he stays put at the elevator.

Abby rushes up to him. "No! It won't! Please, Gibbs! You have to help me! Besides, it'll be better than you going off to your basement and your solitude, right?" She threads her arm through his and begins walking him back toward the back elevator, not even catching the fact that he'd been trying to get her to do this for herself. "Please, say you'll help me?"

With a sigh as he lets her walk him in that direction, he gives up the fight. She's a handful in the best of times and maybe if he stays and helps, she'll get out of here at a decent time and get some sleep. She'll stay at this all night otherwise. "Okay, Abby. Let's see what ya got for ideas."

"Yes! Thank you!" She kisses him on the cheek and lays her head on his upper arm as they step into the elevator together. He hopes this won't take too terribly long. Abby needs to decompress from the week she's just had and switch gears into neutral for teaching. He knows it will take her a good part of the weekend to do that and that's only if she's caught up on her sleep. He'd like to get home before too much longer himself.

********NCIS********

Seized with a wave of horror and panic at the instant realization that he'd been right and they'd been lured into a trap, Jimmy suddenly feels a sharp painful prick in the side of his neck. Instinctively, he reaches up to the point he feels the object he's been bitten by, expecting it to be a spider and grabs what's gotten ahold of him. Pulling his hand away, he's startled to see it's a dart of some kind. Before he can process anything more, his legs give way, dropping him to the ground in a heap. With his blood sugar already low, the pain of the ground meeting his body so roughly hurts even more acutely and his vision is nearly blackened out as encroaching wave of unconsciousness looms ever closer.

********NCIS********

Quickly walking further into the alley with guns drawn, the feeling that something's very wrong is almost tangible, "Just the two of them of them, Tony? That does not sound right." Ziva surmises quietly as she clutches her piece tightly. "Where was McGee?"

"You're right. It doesn't sound right! Why the hell would McGee let them do something like that without going with them? What the hell's wrong with that kid? When I get my hands on him, I'm gonna kill him." He replies tersely as his gut clenches, Gripping his weapon tighter, he takes in a deep breath and hollers for the two missing team members, with Ziva doing likewise.

"Ducky! Palmer!"  
"Ducky! Jimmy!"

********NCIS********

_"Ducky! Palmer!"  
Ducky! Jimmy!"_

As darkness swoops in, Jimmy faintly hears his name in the distance, but the nothingness consumes him before he can answer.

Spurred on by the sound of the approaching last two targets, the temporary help grabs the downed man and tosses him roughly into the back of the already occupied van before jumping in and slamming the door shut behind himself. With an urgent, "Go!" the van pulls out of the alley with a squeal of tires. From their hiding places, the two colored sweatshirts quickly reload their weapons of choice for this one last leg of the job where the last two targets are so perfectly, even if they are faster than anticipated, walking right into their plans.

******NCIS*****

The sound of slamming doors and squealing tires spur Tony and Ziva into a full out sprint down the alley; all thoughts of being angry with their teammate vanishing from their minds as they round the corner. Coming to a dead stop, both of them freeze as they try to take in what they do and do not see. There's no sign of anyone. Whatever' vehicle it was – is gone already; the still swirling dust around the fresh tire tracks say they just missed them. The hair standing up on the back of both their necks says they are definitely not alone. Before they can even communicate with each other, they are simultaneously pricked in the neck, both of them instinctually reaching up to pull away at whatever's just attacked them. With horror in their eyes, they look at each other with the understanding that they've just fallen into some serious trouble.

As Tony attempts to reach into his pocket for his phone, his body betrays him, his legs giving out from underneath him as the darkness takes him in; his last thought vaguely passing through. _Shoulda called Gibbs._

Ziva, too, falls just as quickly, no faster at getting to her phone than Tony had been before the darkness claims her, one last thought stubbornly screaming at her_, Find us. Gibbs. _

**_*****NCIS******_**

With the hard part of their multi-layered, yet short-term, well-paying job successfully completed, Dark Green and Black toss their targets unceremoniously into the back of their van, spraying them liberally with chloroform for good measure before covering them up with a tarp. Their next task; scour the area for any evidence they'd been there. While Dark Green searches for any missed dart tips and obvious foot prints in the alley that would lead to where they'd been hiding, Black erases the tire marks from the first van and works to erase the evidence that their van has been parked here as well. For good measure, he messes up where they'd stood waiting for their prey, as well, leaving no obvious foot prints in the dirt.

Less than two minutes later, they're sedately pulling away, bringing no attention to themselves. There's a lot of work to be done in this – their final leg of the job. It's going to be tough since they've only got a short time to do it in. In fact, they've got less than an hour to secure all five of their targets in place. Once that's done, they'll finally get paid.

But even better, they can return home safely to their families and forever be in favor with the men who'd hired them to do this, instead of constantly living in fear for their lives and the lives of their wives and children. That alone made this job worth doing. Having the money now, to be able to support their families modestly for a long time to come, is a bonus they can both be proud of

The entire job of securing all five targets has taken less than ten minutes. As they pat each other on the back, they drove as fast as possible without drawing attention to themselves, back to the warehouse under the cover of an evening that has already grown even darker. It's all in the perfect timing.

********NCIS*********

With exhaustion beginning to plague him, Gibbs watches Abby finally get in her car, willing to call it a night. As he gets in his own car and prepares to follow her home to make sure she gets there in one piece, the Team Leader feels a stab of regret that its been a good two and a half hours since the team's gone out – making it far too late for him to join them. He's never been one to crash a gathering that late in the game and he's not about to start now.

Besides, he really is beat. For once, he plans on just hitting the hay when he gets home, even if it is Friday night and they're not working or on call tomorrow. In fact, he's relishing the idea of sleeping in. When Abby offers him a wave to let him know she's okay. He smiles back at her in his small quiet way. He stays parked behind her car as she walks to her building and doesn't head off until she's safely inside her apartment and turning on the lamp that tells him she's made it safely inside her home.

He's happy for her and he knows that she's really excited about this assignment so he doesn't have to worry about her getting into trouble over the weekend. The others are never a problem on the weekends either so with a sense of something he hasn't felt all week, but can't quite put his finger on, he dries home and lets the tiredness that's crept up on him over the last four hours, take him away for the count.

********NCIS*********

Stepping back to survey their handiwork, Dark Green, Black and their last minute associate who'd been assigned the task of luring the first two targets out into the alley, are breathing raggedly but have smiles plastered on their faces. Charcoal advises them to stand still in the midst of their handiwork for pictures that need to be taken and sent as proof of a job completed. Once the photos have been taken, he hands each of them their pay envelopes, claps them on the shoulder, "Good job! Now, go home to your families and never speak of this."

For the first time since this job was offered to them, without much chance of refusing, at it had been, the three of them had worked together, with a little extra help of course -for this - the final phase of the plan. While Dark Green and Black brought in a target and held it in place, Charcoal and his temporary helper did the rest; securing that target in place, to Charcoal's specifications. Time and time again, until at long last, each target had been secured, still completely out of it thanks to the extra help of the chloroform dose they've been given through a generously dosed rag held to their faces for a good minute. They're not going anywhere.

Turning to leave, Dark Green stays behind as Black and the temporary help both head out; each going their own separate way. It's not until Black is driving away in the second white van they'd used that he begins to come down from the euphoria of a job well done, enough to think about the 'weirdness' of what he's just witnessed._'….Never speak of this. Then, why take photos? If they were so damned careful about everything else that no evidence will be found, why…? Leverge! Damn! That dirty bastard! We did his dirty work and he's gonna hold it over our heads for the rest of our lives! Damn! Damn! Damn_!

Back in the darkened warehouse, Dark Green has questions to ask; against his better judgment; although a part of his more sane self is telling him that to give voice to those questions is suicide. Still he can't help wanting to know why he'd just gotten paid so handsomely to do this. "You were only after two of them and one of them wasn't even part of this plan."

The blackness of the room is eerie but necessary so the targets won't be able to see their surroundings when they come to, something they were told when given the instructions on how the vast room was to be set up for this job. The boss' silence is as eerie as the darkness and yet, his curiosity is getting the best of him so he stands still for the answers he hopes are coming.

Charcoal frowns as fury begins to unfurl itself insidiously in his gut. At least Black has showed himself to be smart enough to walk away no questions asked. Even the temp had shown himself to be that smart. Thankfully, the old man in the alley was happy just to have a wad of cash thrown at him to go on his merry way with his mouth shut. The old coot was so drunk, he won't remember anything by morning anyway. But this fool standing in front of him - this fool just doesn't know when to shut up!

Asking these questions has _just _sealed Dark Green's fate since it signifies that he can't be trusted to keep his mouth shut. His new plan in mind, Charcoal has no qualms about giving the man who's coming dangerously close to knowing too much, the answers he seeks. He'll only know them for a short time, anyway – barely long enough to process everything.

With eyes like a cat and a menacing smile, he stares at this stupid underling as he answers the question. "This is the best revenge for that one. And when he least expects it, I'll get him, too. All in good time."

"Why all the rest of them?" Dark Green asks, greedy for more information to fill in the blanks. This job had come with a multitude of those.

"Bait."

"How do you know you'll get him? The challenge within the question almost too cocky for the man's own good.

"I've studied them all, he'll come." Charcoal answers calmly as he walks around his underling, slowly reaching into his waistband.

"And when you've caught him? What happens to them?" Dark Green asks, mesmerized by the motives and deeper planning that he's just now beginning to understand. He never meant to ask so many questions but the information that surrounds this job he's just helped pull off, is like a drug. It's been such a monumental accomplishment - taking six people without getting caught – that he wants to submerse himself in the details that have brought this job to him and his family. Oh, crap! His family! _'Never speak of it' _ What the hell's wrong with him? That hadn't been code for 'open you big mouth! Now he was as good as….

"Collateral damage. Just. Like. You. Because _you_ – ask too many questions. ***BANG!***


	6. Chapter 5

Charcoal can't help but grin as he relishes the knowledge that the hard work is done; the fun is just beginning AND his list of accomplices is both short and clean. It's almost funny that both of the idiots from his neck of the woods back home thought they'd all three been answering to _'them'_. He'd wanted it that way, but, what a joke! Apparently, they weren't as smart as he'd given them credit for or they would have figured out that this kind of agenda was intensely personal and not something the group as a whole would concern themselves with - or pay to have done. So personal, in fact, that every decision was_ his_ to make, something he rather enjoyed.

That is, until Dark Green had gone and made himself a loose end that needed to be taken care of. Such a shame, really. He hadn't wanted any of his help to get hurt; much less have to be disposed of. It's a relief that Black has been the smart one - and done what he was supposed to do - go back home where he could be tracked and reacquainted with this masterpiece if necessary, that he so willingly participated in, that he'll be a piece of cake to keep in line. Hell, it might even prove to be fun! His own little puppet; not to mention the guy's wife. She'll make a _pretty_ puppet.

Speaking of pretty...he's still got _one_ more target to pick up before the big fish can be reeled in. And since she's a feisty little fire-cracker but completely clueless as to how to properly defend herself against situations like this; she'll be easy pickin's. Unfortunately, the timing has to be perfect and_ that_ means waiting. Sighing impatiently, he sets those thoughts aside for now and returns his thoughts to savoring his victory so far- and being able to sit back and watch the drama as it unfolds - a silent spectator who'll enjoy every minute of it - because, after all, they have it coming after what they did.

He glances at the sight before him; waves of satisfaction rolling through him, making him almost drunk with pleasure. Even though he's not done yet - the hardest part - the trickiest part - has been pulled off without a single hitch. Taking a moment now, he slowly walks down the aisle, looking at each target - still unconscious, still clueless - still not going anywhere - looking like checkers on a very large checkerboard, six feet away from the next target across from them and-six feet between each set. Ah, the sweet smell of victory!

But it won't be much of a victory if something happens to one of them before he's through with them. With that mental reminder flashing in front of him, he deftly whips out what he needs to tend to the one his research and tracking has taught him, has medical issues that need looking after if he doesn't want this to go south. A careful prick, a double check and a carefully measured injection later and his worries are over on that score

Covertly getting to know them during the course of planning this has definitely worked in his favor or he never would have known to do that. Then again, it has obviously also worked in the recipient's favor, as well, right? After all, it's not _his_ fault the moron didn't take better care of himself up to the point he'd become part of the plan, right? Maybe he'll thank Charcoal before this is over? Yeah, probably not. No matter. The show must go on. Speaking of...

He smiles knowingly even as he puts the kit away and once more, walks between the rows of his targets, this time, checking pockets for weapons and phones. The table that sits a good three feet behind the row of them closest to the wall soon becomes home to the array of both. He knows that there's no way any of them will be able to reach any of this but they'll be able to see the flashing of their phones when the calls begin to get missed. Another added bonus to this multi-layered plan that's going oh, so well.

With only one last thing to do, he sighs contentedly as he sets the lighting timer - wanting the room to be lit at just the right time and _only_ for a short time - before the room will be plunged back into darkness so thick, there'll be no chance of seeing anything. The thought of those few minutes of light - where each target will be able to _completely_ take in exactly what's become of not only themselves, but their team member, almost brings a wave of laughter to Charcoal - but he suppresses it into a Cheshire Cat grin that doesn't disappear.

_"You were only after two of them and one of them wasn't even part of this plan."_

The words of the now deceased idiot brings back the remainder of the plan in his head, while casting his eyes towards the one empty place ready for his next capture and the second one at the end of the row - as if in the place of prestige -for the big fish. Everything's set and waiting. Nothing more needs to be done here - until tomorrow, anyway. Walking to the door of the warehouse, he prepares to leave, satisfied that nothing will happen until morning, probably at first light - hah, not that they'll be able to see that.

Taking one last look over his shoulder, his ego inflates even further as his heart swells with the feeling he's _finally _fulfilling his promise of revenge - being served cold yet right on time. No; not revenge -vengeance!

Pulling the small medallion that he's never taken off since it had been given to him, five years ago, away from his neck, while holding the chain it's on - he kisses it and murmurs. "For you, my love."

*******NCIS*********

_Saturday morning Sept 17, 2011_

His movements slow and sluggish as consciousness begins to return, Tim feels weighed down everywhere as the fog begins to dissipate from his mind.. Even his eyes feel too warm and glued shut. Working at opening his eyes, he finds himself blinking repeatedly instead- or at least trying to, in an attempt to adjust to the darkness that's so real, he can feel it. A wave of anxiety grabs hold of him with a tenacity that alarms him as he tries to look around and sees nothing but inky darkness that's unrelenting and overpowering. Finally it hits him as his mind comprehends the physical textures of the weight on his head. The reason he can't open his eyes; the reason they feel too warm is because he's been blindfolded with - a thick, black, heavy fabric! _Damn it to hell!_

With that terrifying realization, the rational part of his brain abruptly awakens and immediately shifts into gear and begins to catalog the rest of his physical situation even as the impulsive side of his mind fills with disbelief before that changes over to confusion and uncertainty still wrapped in panic. _How did he get here? Why? Who would do this to him? _Tim struggles to keep calm, deliberately taking measured breaths and slowly letting them back out. Finding the sliver of silver lining, he mentally holds on to the relief that he's not gagged, though he can't help but wonder why.

Now his focus turns to why the rest of his body isn't cooperating with the commands to move. It's a demoralizing and dehumanizing moment when he realizes he's completely bound from his upper chest on down to his upper thighs with thick, heavy chains that seem as endless as they do heavy. Questions flood his mind amidst the plethora of emotions storming through. _Who has taken him like this and why?_

******NCIS******

Blinding light awakens Tony from behind his nearly glued eye lids. As if stuck in quick sand, he struggles to move both his arms and legs, only to come completely awake in shock, confusion and something else that sharply resembles fear. What the hell?

His eyes snap open, immediately slamming shut against the light that seems to be as bright as the morning sun should be. Trying again, Tony turns his head away from the overhead light and finds that now his eyes are beginning to focus. What they see would have dropped him to his knees - if he could have moved.

******NCIS******

Gibbs awakens to the peace and quiet of a morning without having to go in to work. As he gets up without worrying about the time, he showers and pours himself into his comfort clothes, sweatpants and a Marine sweatshirt. Padding barefoot down the stairs, he can't help but acknowledge the twinge in his gut that tells him all is not well.

Pouring his coffee, he mentally runs through what he knows of his team members' weekend plans that would possible get them into trouble. Realizing he's already gone through this - as he does every weekend they have off - he shuts off that thought process long enough to finish pouring his coffee and setting it down on the table while he goes out to retrieve the morning paper off his front porch.

Settling back down at the table, he opens the paper and peruses his favorite sections while savoring his coffee. Once he's done that, he's up to refill his coffee and his mind is back on why his gut is bothering him so. Tony hadn't mentioned any plans that sounded any alarms and neither had the others.

Not yet satisfied, Gibbs gives each of his team members a call; getting their voicemails. Glancing at the time, he realizes it's still too on a morning they don't have to go in to work. Its barely eight and he knows that in the case of McGee and DiNozzo, at least, that could very well mean they're still in bed. He doubts that Abby or Ziva are but he knows that any message left by him will be returned before too long.

He's barely closed his phone on the last call when it rings. With a twitch of worry he answers it quickly

"Yeah. Gibbs."

_"Gibbs. Somebody wishes for you to spend the day with her."_ Mike's daughter-in-law, Leyla announces quietly. _"Are you free today? I can not even get her to eat her breakfast because she wishes for you to eat with us."_

"For Amira? Anytime I'm not working. You know that. I'll be right over."

_"You are so good to us, Gibbs."_

"You're family. Why wouldn't I be?" He replies without hesitation as he heads to the door.

_"I will tell her. Maybe she will eat now."_ She laughs quietly.

"Tell her I said I won't take her to the park if she doesn't." He advises as he scoops up his keys and wallet off the side table by the front door.

_"Ooh. Now, that will work!" _

Opening his front door, he replies with a smile in his voice. "I'll be there in ten."

******NCIS******

Before Tony can even find his voice, one question screams through his mind. _How the hell did this happen? How the hell did five of us wind up kidnapped and chained to support columns as big as barns completely out of reach of each other, yet near enough to see just how bad we each look? _

"Anthony?" Ducky's shocked voice breaks through his muddled thoughts -from just six feet in front of him . It's obvious the good doctor is trying to process the truth of their predicament even as he attempts to ascertain the degree of possible injuries or problems they might be facing as well.

"Ducky! Are you hurt?" Tony's quick to ask as he carefully looks the elderly man over as much as he can from where he's at.

"Nothing a nice hot cup of Earl Grey Tea wouldn't fix, dear boy." The M.E.'s attempt to alleviate Tony's worry doesn't go unnoticed as the two of them look each other over. "However did we find ourselves here and bound in such a horrendous manner?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Tony automatically falls to the first question often asked in cases like this - with other victims.

"Why, Mr. Palmer and I were rushing to assist that ...oh, dear. Mr. Palmer was right, wasn't he?" Ducky's eyes quickly look around. "Carelessly lured into a dreadful trap! Where is...?. Oh, dear! Jimmy!"

Turning his head to look in the direction the M.E.'s eyes have now locked, Tony's heart sinks.

******NCIS******

Shifting in the chair - what little of it Tim can do while bound this way, brings the two different brainwaves back together to a more painful comprehension about his predicament. Being six feet tall and confined to this way of sitting as well as having recently lost fifteen pounds with no more fat left on his body means every inch of the chain is pressing onto, not only tender flesh, but bone and sinew as well - causing him pain.

Every point of contact between the heavy chain and his skin seers with a burning throb that makes Tim's teeth clench. His body aches everywhere; even places he didn't know could feel pain. With his arms bound to his sides, his hands are uselessly dangling just below his upper thighs. His neck is incredibly painful and stiff, as well, where it's held his head at that uncomfortable angle for hours.

One more terrifying fact floods his mind: neither his degrees will be of any help to him now. It's not even clear if his experience earned on the job will be of any help to him now. Speaking of help; where is the rest of the team that had gone out to dinner with? Are they alright or are they in this same predicament? What the hell happened? _Focus McGee!_

_What's the first thing we ask captive victims? Oh, right. What's the last thing they remember? _Trying to think back on the last thing _he_ remembers, Tim recalls feeling very sick after drinking half of his water down at the restaurant. He remembers running to the men's room in hopes of making it there before he lost his lunch. Nothing else comes to mind since his head is still hurting from the knock it took.

_Wait. He'd been knocked out! He remembers now - and just before the lights went out, he saw...damn it, what was it he saw?_ _God, it's cold in here!_ As he begins to shiver from the cold, Tim thinks back to leaving work and what he was wearing then. Mentally, he curses as he recalls that he's wearing only a thin button-up work shirt tucked inside his jeans with the standard socks and work shoes on his feet. A cold chill runs up his spine more when he feels the goose bumps on his skin as the cold air permeates the room.

_Is this his destiny? Is he supposed to die from cold, chained to a chair and blindfolded for some reason he doesn't comprehend by someone he doesn't know and a reason he may never discover; if there even is one_?

******NCIS******

Ducky's mind hammers on the horrible picture he's woken up to; himself and three of the younger people he cherishes bound in place where they stand,- each strapped to a three foot round ceiling-to-floor steel pole in several places in such a way that no escape is possible; their arms stretched up over their heads with no slack, each tied securely at a slightly different angle than their other arm - both with nautical rope - not just at the wrists where it would leave their fingers free to move - but across the fingers as well. The rope - in each place is a separate piece and is strapped and twisted tightly around the beam and tied securely to the thick chain held hooks at the top of each beam. The poles are spaced exactly six feet away from each other, with three on each side of the room - exactly six feet away.

_What diabolical mind contrived this nightmare? For what purpose? And good heavens, why all of us?_

*******NCIS*******

Abby awakens to a day of excitement as she quickly gets up, showers and dresses. Leaving out on a mission, she's soon at the mall, with countless stores to choose from for her new wardrobe she has to have for this class. A day of shopping. What could be better?

A day of shopping with a friend? With a sigh, she pulls out her phone and tries to call first Ziva and then McGee. When both calls go immediately to voicemail, she resigns herself to the fact that they're sleeping in, well, at least Tim is; and she's slated to do this solo.

No matter, she has a class to dress for and she must look her best. With that goal in mind, she puts her best foot forward and enters the mall, soon, lost in a sea of people, wandering from store to store, and waiting for something to catch her eye.

******NCIS******

"Mr. Palmer!" Ducky entreats his protégée to wake up, to no avail.

Tony discovers from where he's positioned, directly to the left of the pole next to him, he can't completely see the face of the Medical Assistant's. Seeing the younger man still not actively answering the M.E.'s call, worries Tony so he joins in the efforts to rouse him. "Hey! Palmer!"

Across from the younger man, bound to the beam next to Ducky, Ziva begins to come awake as the voices reverberate through the large room. Silently, she exchanges concerned glances with both Tony and Ducky, but still refrains from speaking even then. Instead, she takes the time to painstakingly inspect the room, as carefully as she can from her position; searching not only for clues, but also a way out.

Now, Tony's attention turns from helping Ducky to looking Ziva over before silently joining her efforts to case the place. He knows Ducky will keep up the efforts to wake Jimmy and that it won't be long before the youngest man here is finally awake. But, for now, the agents are multi-tasking; stubbornly re-searching while silently communicating with each other that indeed, there is no way out. They don't want to alarm either of the non - agents being held this way but Ducky is keen to their efforts and agenda; addressing it before they realize it's coming.

"Did you locate a way out?"

"There_ is_ no way." Tony mutters.

"Yes. However, it is completely... No, Ducky." She sighs. "I did not."

"What are you talking about, Zee?" Tony asks worriedly. It's not like her to hold something like an escape route back.

Silently, she nods in the direction of the back wall where she has detected the faint outline of the door that's otherwise completely camouflaged.

Before Tony can comment, Jimmy's head moves groggily, and his eyes open. Obviously, their voices have reached through his sleep-laden mind.

"Huh? What? Tony why are you waking me up? Today's Saturday." Jimmy asks tiredly as his eyes focus on the first person he sees.

"Mr. Palmer. Are you alright?" Ducky's voice coming from six diagonal feet away from him startles him.

"Doctor Mallard? Why...what's going on? Wait, why can't I move my...anything? What's going ON?"

"Jimmy, you need to calm down, alright?" Tony pushes with authority. "Freaking out isn't going to help, here."

"Oh, God!" Jimmy moans in protest as it hits him, the state he's in. Trying to calm his already labored breathing, he happens a glance at the others - his heart nearly stopping at the realization that they're all bound the way he is. "What the hell is going on here, Tony?"

"Wish I knew, Palmer. Let's everyone calm down. Let's take a sit rep, alright? Any injuries? Palmer, how's the sugar level?"

"I feel fine, Tony. Which, come to think of it, is wrong."

"What do you mean, Mr. Palmer? What do you recall from the events leading up to this that would lead you to say such a thing?"

"I was feeling dizzy...when we were in the alley... right before I blacked out... because I hadn't eaten in hours. But now, I feel fine?" Jimmy lets his head fall back just enough to touch the beam he's bound to. Closing his eyes, he sighs in frustration. "Without my insulin, how is that possible?"

"I hesitate to suggest such an act of kindness would have overcome whomever is behind this, but perhaps that is what happened. Do you feel anything that would clue you into what is possibly a fresh injection site?"

Now Jimmy focuses on mentally taking stock of his physical state, cataloging what he can notice and it's not long before he realizes the M.E. is right. "Actually, I do. Why would they do that?" The young man looks across to Ziva and then over at Tony; expecting them to answer his question. What he doesn't expect is the glance they share with each other while holding their silence in. He can see they know the answer but what scares him is their obvious reluctance to share that answer with him. That...can't be good.

******NCIS******

Almost as an after-thought, it hits Tim; the realization that his feet are not bound! His calves aren't either! Futilely he attempts to use his feet to feel out his surroundings in the area around the chair. Apparently, he's in the middle of an empty room of some sort because there's nothing there. Nothing that is, except the chain where it's been run down through the bottom rung of the chair he's sitting in. He's not going anywhere.

That little effort has worn him out, leaving him feeling winded since he hasn't eaten in hours and he's getting more chilled as time passes. He's _very_ cold, _very _hungry and _very_ pissed. But most of all, he's _very_ scared. It's only a minute longer before his experienced gut grabs hold of his attention and reminds him of the biggest promise he can always count on. _You belong to Gibbs! The man never leaves a man behind. _

Allowing himself to put that on constant reply in his head, he feels himself calming down, little by little, despite the cold. The boss has never let him down yet. He knows he can count on him not doing it now. _Boss will find me_. Come to think of it, Tony and Ziva have never let him down when push came to shove, either. _The team will find me. Never leave a man behind._

That's his mantra as exhaustion takes him away, his body shivering in the cold.

******NCIS******

"Okay, complete honesty! Now!" Tony directs to the other three for the sake of keeping them focused. He owes it to them; to Gibbs, to do what he can to get them through this- alive. "I wanna know what they did to you and how you're feelin'. Anything hurt or feels broken, I need to know. Focus. Even though we can't move much, we can each do a sit rep."

"Tony, I am fine. Nothing is broken. I believe we were drugged. Perhaps dosed with something further to keep us unconscious longer. It was not their intent to harm us beyond that." Ziva reassures him without hesitation.

"I agree with Ziva." Jimmy replies. "That is, about not being hurt, I mean. Even my ankle's been wrapped. I remember twisting it when I fell in the alley. But it feels like it's wrapped now and nothing else hurts, except maybe the back of my head?"

"I believe Ziva is correct, Anthony. Outside of a bump on the back of my head, I, too have no injuries."

"Yeah. Same here." Tony offers quietly. "Guess that cinches it. Ziva's right. Whatever's behind them - whoever 'them' is - their grabbing us...hasn't begun yet."

"What do you think they want with us?" Jimmy falteringly asks as worry and fear begin to set in.

From across the way, Ziva's voice quietly takes up the silence the young man's question has brought down on them.

"I have a better question. Where...is McGee?"


End file.
